tagBDSMThe Delicious Art of Crawling Ch.02

The Delicious Art of Crawling Ch.02


I find that the more you concentrate on the pain, the easier it becomes to deal with. So now to empty my head of all thoughts, while focusing this mind. It's never quite as easy as it sounds. Whackkkkk.

That is the sound of your belt laying into me, raining down blows over and over, striping my buttocks. Thick striations now colour my pale flesh, turning it a soft rosy pink. There is no question your aim is for a more blood red hue and you are certainly working upon it with enthusiasm. Not a whimper has been elicited from me yet however.

You'll need to try a little harder my darling to get that word from me you've been so longing to hear on these lips, I think to myself. Damned if I'll give it up without a fight.

Whackkkkkkkk Whackkkkkkkkk Whackkkkkkkkkkkkk My eyes start to water as the leather moves to that soft, pale, satin expanse of my back. Concentrate I berate myself, as a whimper escapes my lips. The tiny sound spurs you on, those unyielding eyes darken; the Sadist in you revelling in your slave's pain. Helplessly my body begins to heat up and becomes slick and slippery with fierce need.

I am quite a picture in the position you have me; bending at my waist 90 degrees into the wall. Fingertips of my outstretched hands are the only points which connect with the cold surface in front of me. You have made sure the wall will offer your slave no support, will not help absorb any of the vicious blows raining down. No mercy and to be fair, I expect none. Each stinging slap of that belt is measured and calculated to hurt just a little bit more than the last.

I am still in my stilettos which bite cruelly into toes as I hold my position and the black lace stockings have remained perfectly placed, framing the soft, gentle contours of my arse; almost emphasizing the vivid red hues that your belt continues to imprint. My only new adornment is my collar. The one I was ordered to fetch while crawling from the room, littered with soft tea light candles, careful to avoid an unnecessary escapade with hot wax. Then I returned back to you with the soft, supple leather dripping from my teeth, obediently kneeling in order to offer it to you.

Don't think I don't know how much you enjoy wrapping that collar around my neck. How you love to pull the buckle tight, just to hear me gasp. Your favourite part however, is to wrap the cold metal leash around your fingers and tug, while burying your hand in my long, silky tresses. All of this just to see the expression in my eyes, the look of worshipping adoration, the flames that lick up from them proving that my heart is also on fire; joining the conflagration of this body. This fevered body that drips liquid heat in its all consuming desire for you.

My DEO: my Dark Evil One. Oh how I love you. My thoughts abruptly return to your belt bearing down on wickedly crimson flesh.

Whackkkkk Whackkkkkkkkk Whackkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

You bend down to whisper in my ear, adding a gratingly menacing quality, guaranteed to produce that convulsive swallow in me, the one you watch for.

'We're not moving on from the belt, until we've achieved a good, agonised sob' you say.

I grit my teeth. Why, I have no idea. You always get what you want. Call it the perversity in me that like's to see you wait. Focus, I warn myself, because now it takes almost more will power than one possesses to deny you that sob. Luckily I am a determined soul. Those teeth of mine clamp together and my eyes find a spot in the far corner of the room, funnily enough the door and I lock onto the image of escape for support.

'Eyes on me slave,' you murmur softly, almost seductively in my ear.

How foolish, to hope to get away with that. Eyes reluctantly find yours once more. Damn. There is almost pity there, the merest thread only of course, but a whisper of sympathy in the long gaze you give me.

You know how much this is going to cost me. I can only wonder why you need this so much? You will break me, if you insist on this, we both know it. Is the discipline of our relationship so great that you need a sobbing, dribbling, wreck to become of me? Previous words of yours return to haunt me.

'Significant and Intense,' but I can't place them properly as the belt finds my inner thighs and licks at them, tearing through stockings. Oh God the pain. That sob that you require is now bursting in the back of my throat, needing to break free.

'My word, precious slave,' you reiterate.

Not that I require the reminder and no, you will not have it, not yet, not ever if I had my way; but we both know I cannot fight you like this. Those dark chocolate eyes hold mine, they melt my trembling body, searing into me through the pain. The words come back.

'Everything between us will always find itself significant and intense.'

Just as your belt reaches the tip of my inner thigh, lighting fire ricochets around my body and you have your sob. It forces itself through blood red lips and without my consent. It is not enough though, it never is. The belt slowly flicks higher up, reaching for the softest of flesh; wanting the highly sensitive, blood infused folds of my desire.

All that is left for me to do is wait and agonise as I choke back more sobs and plead with startlingly blue eyes that seem to have no effect on you whatsoever. The damned Homeric willpower. It is going to bring me crashing to my knees. It takes no small amount of resolve on my part, to stop from snapping those legs together tightly. My eyes can't help themselves though; they flutter closed, unable to watch.

'You know better,' your voice taunts me, 'open them wide.'

Oh the effort it takes to prise them open and watch you in front of me, belt swinging from your wrist.

'You could end this,' you murmur. 'Where is my word precious?'

My eyes open wide and I shake my head in defiance, that is as much as I dare. This slave's throat is that dry, she would be unable to utter a word regardless.

You smile. Damn you. Fingers reach forward to caress my clit, kneading and stroking the already swollen nub.

Noooooooooooo. God No. I can feel my body light up. The blistering heat of my lacerations begins to be pushed to the wayside as your fingers torment and torture me. A throbbing, delirious madness fills me. That little nub, capable of such pleasure is swelling nicely beneath your touch. Soft sobs of pain have now been commingled with little mewling gasps of pleasure. The desperation to close those legs is nearly unbearable. It would be foolishly futile though. There are many ways you have to restrain me if necessary. Another sob escapes me. My body can't help but give itself away now. I am beset by huge, violent shudders. My teeth then begin to chatter, adding to my woes.

A hand begins to caress my face softly, as if sympathising with the plight of this slave. The other hand of yours is less sympathetic as it displays the rigid bamboo cane before my eyes. The cane pauses there, so I can get a good, long look. My knees buckle, but manage to hold. Blood is roaring around my body now, pounding in my ears, breath is uneven and painful and I am on a knife edge to exploding after the onslaught of your fingertips.

'My word,' you whisper once more, eyes narrowing to mere slits, 'or I'll make sure this is one night you'll never forget.'

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